To Majors, To Make Much Of Time
by AstraPerAspera
Summary: A conversation with an old friend could change Sam's life. Mid-Season 3. Sam and Jack.


**To Majors, To Make Much of Time**

By

AstraPerAspera

Sometimes Fate could be cruel.

That was a hard lesson she had learned long ago. And while she'd have thought that age and experience would have dulled the pain of subsequent loss and heartache, she knew now that that supposition had been an absolute fallacy. It hurt now just as badly as it had hurt then. If anything, it was even more devastating the second time around. After all these years…after thinking the very worst and deciding to move on with her life…to finally be together as she'd always believed they were destined to, only to have it wrenched away—to have _him_ wrenched away, after two short years—it was almost more than she could endure.

If it hadn't been for Daniel….

She hadn't expected him to be such a source of comfort to her; but when she thought about it, she realized that it really couldn't have been anyone but him who would understand. He too had lost the love of his life, and his quiet empathy to her grief was the only thing that had sustained her over these past few days. He had let her talk about him when she needed to, and simply sat in companionable silence when words would no longer come. He had barely left her side the entire time and his presence had given her the strength she needed to get to this place at this moment.

She looked across the flag-draped casket on it's bier above the carefully and strategically concealed hole into which it would eventually be lowered. Only her closest friends had joined them at cemetery, and she found her attention drawn to three of them in particular as they stood, heads bowed, while the minister intoned the graveside prayers. Teal'c, solemn and sturdy, his hat strategically covering his golden tattoo. Jack, obviously uncomfortable in his service dress, but all the more strikingly handsome for wearing it. Sam, the epitome of poise in her own dress uniform, even if her face gave evidence of having shed some tears of her own.

Or perhaps was still shedding them. Catherine watched as Jack gave Sam a concerned glance out of the corner of his eye and then, moments later, reached into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He surreptitiously pressed it into her hand and she shot him a grateful look as she dabbed her eyes with it and then wiped her nose. Jack was still keeping an eye on her, Catherine noticed, and when Sam took a deep, shuddering breath he stepped almost imperceptibly closer to her, as if to further lend support. She seemed to lean in toward him instinctively, drawn together by an invisible gravity. Neither of them seemed to be the least bit cognizant of it.

It took Catherine only a heart beat to realize what she was seeing.

She glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, but all eyes were groundward or on the minister. Curiosity drew her attention back to Jack and Sam and it seemed as though, in those intervening seconds, they somehow had moved even closer together. Jack's hand had drifted up and seemed to be gently supporting Sam's elbow, a gesture she was sure neither of them were aware of. The unaffected intimacy of it made Catherine's heart oddly ache.

"Amen."

The minister ended the prayer and Catherine's attention came back to the moment. Several young airmen stepped forward and began to fold the flag atop Ernest's casket. They presented it to General Hammond who, with great solemnity, in turn presented it to her. Jack had once called Ernest a true American hero and the general had gone out of his way to make sure that he was buried with all the honors afforded to such a man. Catherine appreciated the gesture and she knew Ernest would have too, even if the presence of even these few people would have made him nervous after so many years of relentless solitude.

From a distant hill the crack of firearms echoed off the nearby buildings. Moments later _Taps_ rang out in the cool autumn air. There was a respectful pause as the last notes faded away and it was over. Daniel, still by her side, offered her his arm and they joined the small group as they wandered away from the gravesite.

"You're coming to the house," she told—more than asked—Jack and the others as they met up near the cars. Jack's look canvassed the others who seemed to non-verbally give their assent.

"We wouldn't miss it," he assured her.

"Good. I'll see you there, then." Now that the funeral was finished, a slight sense of relief settled over her. She even managed to smile at Jack as Daniel helped her into the car.

She felt more like her old self. Her old self with a very big hole in her heart.

The caterers had everything prepared by the time they drove up to the house. Daniel brought a chair out into the foyer so she could sit as she greeted her guests, all the while hovering nearby in case she needed him. As kind as everyone was in expressing their condolences, she couldn't help but think how very little any of them understood. No one, of course, had known Ernest's true story. No one could comprehend how very precious these past few years had been for both of them. No one except those who'd been there with her when Ernest had been found.

She was relieved when they finally arrived. Those paying their condolences had dwindled to a few stragglers and Catherine had moved into the main rooms where people had gathered. SG-1's entrance caused a stir for no other reason than Teal'c was still wearing his hat, and Catherine smiled to herself wondering what the stuffed-shirts in the room would think if they knew what the hat concealed. Or…even more shocking…what he carried inside of him.

Still, it wasn't Teal'c or his presumed breach of etiquette that fascinated her as she watched her friends get their bearings in the room. She was captivated by the couple in uniform. Granted, she hadn't been around them a great deal lately, Earnest's health declining gradually as it had; but even so, she didn't know why she hadn't noticed it before. The stolen glances. The hairsbreadth closeness. The whispered intimacies. Smiles that were meant for each other alone. And yet, as she watched them further, just as she'd seen at the cemetery, they seemed completely oblivious to it. They did it as naturally as breathing—and were just as unaware.

There were probably rules about such things, knowing the military. Or course they'd want to dictate how people felt as rigidly as they dictated what people did. So maybe what she was witnessing wasn't so much not seeing what was right in front of their noses as much as it was practiced avoidance of it. If _she_ could practically see the sparks of electricity flying between them, they surely must themselves be aware of it to some degree. And yet…if they did know it, she would think they would have taken greater care to keep their interactions more remote and restrained. No, she decided. They lived in ignorance of their own chemistry. Well…perhaps not ignorance—but at the very least, extreme denial.

She thought of Ernest. They'd had that kind of chemistry too, once. It had sparked again when he'd finally come home, but they had lost so much time. Their whole lives, practically. Fate's cruel hand again, separating them for fifty years. And neither of them had been able to do a damn thing about it.

She looked through the clusters of people and found them again. He'd brought her something to drink and was offering her something off his plate. She picked up the canapé with her fingers and smiled at him as she popped it in her mouth. He must have made one of his trademark Jack comments because she started to laugh with her mouth full, which only brought a wicked grin of delight to his face. For all the world, Catherine would have sworn that as far as they were concerned, they were the only two in the room.

Pity and indignation surged through her. She and Ernest had had no choice in their separation. It had been completely out of either of their hands. But these two had the ability to take charge of their own destiny, if they wanted to. Whether it was their ranks or their jobs or their own personal barriers that were standing in the way, she didn't know. And she didn't care. What she did know was that she was damned if she was going to stand by and let them miss out on the happiness they deserved. Not if she could do something about it. Besides, what the hell good was having lived this long if she couldn't help others learn from her own mistakes.

Jack was unapproachable. She knew him well enough to know she didn't have a chance at breaking through that implacable façade he liked to keep so firmly in place. It was probably Sam who would benefit most from her nudging anyway. Woman to woman, as it were.

Between conversations with people who came to express their condolences or inquire as to her well being, she kept an eye on Sam, watching for just the right opportunity. Daniel had found the other three now and they all seemed so joined at the hip that she worried the moment would pass and they would leave without her being able to get Sam alone. She wasn't sure when she would get another chance like this and she needed to make the most of it.

Jack must have run out of food for he eventually headed back to the buffet, Teal'c in tow. Daniel closed the space between himself and Sam but moments later was tapped on the shoulder by someone he obviously knew and became engaged in a conversation with him. Catherine thought she recognized the man as a professor in archeology and silently hoped the two of them were in for a long discussion. Luckily they were…or at least it was long enough that Sam began to lose interest. With Jack and Teal'c filling their plates and Daniel undoubtedly trying to explain his absence from the field for the past four years, Sam wandered off on her own, giving her attention to the details of the room before finally disappearing through a doorway into the study.

Seizing the moment, Catherine excused herself from the small group that had gathered around her and followed Sam, grateful to find the study empty except for the two of them. Sam looked over her shoulder as Catherine entered the room and smiled. She'd been studying the many artifacts that lined bookshelves and tabletops, hung on walls and stood in corners, stopping, when Catherine had come in, next to a collection of Central American figurines.

"This is an amazing collection, Catherine. I had no idea! I'm surprised museums are pounding on your door for all of this."

"Oh don't think they haven't tried. My father used to kick curators off our doorstep regularly. I like to think my approach is a little more genteel. I set the dogs on them." She winked at Sam who grinned back.

Catherine gazed about the room and smiled.

"Actually," she continued. "Many of these items belonged to my father. Some he actually found himself at various digs…others he acquired from others, probably without too many questions asked. Of course that was in the day when dealing with antiquities wasn't illegal."

Sam had picked up one of the figurines on the table and was examining it.

"I'm proud to say, however, that a fair number of things in here are actually my own discoveries. That figure you're holding, for example. I found that at a site in the Yucatan Peninsula. The markings on it date it as pre-Columbian."

Sam continued to examine the piece.

"What is it exactly?" she asked.

"A fertility goddess, actually. You'll find her in many different cultures. The Mayans called her Ixchel. To the Aztecs she was Cihuacoatl. Possibly you're more familiar with her ancient Egyptian version: Hathor "

For some reason Sam quickly set the statue down and took a half-step back, distractedly wiping her hands on her skirt. She looked over at Catherine with a smile that somehow seemed more like a grimace.

"Yeah…I've heard of her," Sam managed, without much enthusiasm.

Catherine waved her over toward a leather sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and the two of them sat down.

"It's been too long, Samantha. But I suppose I'm partly to blame. Toward the end Ernest required constant care and I couldn't bring myself to leave him, not even for a little while."

"I know how much it meant to you to have him back after all those years. I don't blame you for wanting to spend every moment with him you could."

Catherine sighed.

"I was very fortunate. Not everyone gets a second chance like we did. I know it's a cliché to tell young people to grab onto happiness when you have the chance and not let it slip through your fingers. But there is something to be said for the voice of experience."

"I suppose there is."

Catherine studied the younger woman for a moment. Now that she had the opportunity to look at her more closely, she could see there was something different about her. Sam seemed older—not in appearance exactly, but in her expression, as though she had lived through something profound. She recalled Daniel telling her that Sam had been through a very personal ordeal on a recent mission to rescue her father. Whatever had happened there, she could see it in the woman's eyes.

Impulsively she took Sam's hand.

"Now…tell me how you've been. Do they ever let you out of that mountain any more?"

Sam's smile suggested there was more truth than exaggeration to the question.

"Once in a while—for good behavior," she quipped. "Really though…you don't get much time off in my line of work," she added. "Not that I mind. There's so much to learn from just the technology we've come across so far—I could spend the rest of my life trying to figure out how half of it works."

"Not much of a life," remarked Catherine, quietly. "Especially for someone your age."

Sam's smile faded ever so slightly and she avoided Catherine's eyes for a moment.

"Well…one day I'll get around to…other things." She plucked distractedly at a small piece of lint on her skirt. "First there's the little matter of the goa'uld," she pointed out.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"The goa'uld? Well…they're a threat of course, but I think now that we have allies…."

Catherine cut her off with a laugh.

"You think I'm afraid of getting a snake in my head?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Trust me…it's certainly not keeping me awake at night. No, my dear…it's that "one day", you mentioned that concerns me. Believe me, Samantha…you'll wake up some morning and find all those 'one days' are behind you. You might have a lot of shiny brass on that shoulder and a lab full of technology you know inside and out, but you'll have missed out on the most important things, and there will be no way to get them back."

Sam's smile was indulgent and even Catherine had to groan inwardly at her own blathering. Yes. Of course Sam had probably heard this a hundred times. Fairly standard Old Ladies' Words of Wisdom. In one ear and out the other. If she could only be as blunt as she was accustomed to being, but until she was sure, she needed to tread carefully.

"It's on my to-do list," was Sam's gentle come-back, delivered with a slightly arched brow. Catherine smothered a smile and wondered if the woman had any idea how much of Jack O'Neill had rubbed off on her.

Fine. Perhaps it was time to probe a little more deeply.

"I was watching you today. At the cemetery and just now, out there. It seems you all have developed some deep bonds."

Sam's face relaxed into a smile.

"Well…you know how it is—when you go through a lot of hard times together, it can bring you very close."

"So I noticed."

Sam's cheeks pinked slightly, as if she understood only too well what Catherine meant.

"How _is_ Jack?" Now that she was sure Sam's feelings weren't a figment of her imagination she was determined to be a little more direct.

"Good," Sam replied a little too quickly. "The colonel is good."

"And I don't suppose he makes it out of that mountain any more than you do."

"Well we…I mean, he…it's just that…." She cleared her throat. "No. He's around the base a lot too." She gave Catherine a nervous glance. "Paperwork," she added suddenly. "He's always behind with his mission reports. It takes a lot of his time to get through it." She looked, for all the world, as though she hoped this last explanation would suffice.

"Knowing Jack I'm sure he'd rather face an entire army of Jaffa than write a single word," Catherine chuckled and Sam seemed to relax again, the rose-colored blush fading from her cheeks. Now seemed a good time for a little straight talk. Catherine fixed her with a steady gaze. "He's a good man, you know," she said in all seriousness. "I've never met one finer."

Sam nodded and seemed momentarily at a loss for words. "I know," she managed finally. "It's an honor to serve with him."

Catherine shook her head.

"I'm not talking about Colonel O'Neill the soldier…I'm talking about Jack, the man." She waited a beat for Sam to meet her eyes, but the woman's gaze wandered to an insignificant artifact on the shelf behind them and she slipped her hands from Catherine's to reach for it.

"Where did you find this one?" she asked, as if the small Egyptian alabaster jar was indeed the discovery of the century. Catherine was not to be so easily distracted.

"The gift shop at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was on sale," she replied tersely.

Sam's head snapped up, startled and Catherine let her eyes bore into her, trying not to let the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement at Sam's perplexed look. It took Sam half a heartbeat to realize that Catherine had succinctly put an end to her attempt to change the topic and she sheepishly returned the jar to the shelf.

"There's a lot of depth there, Sam," Catherine continued, as if the interruption hadn't occurred. "Much more than he'll ever let on. Under that devil-may-care exterior his feelings run very, very deep. Believe me. I was watching him today, and I know what I saw. "

Sam's silence was as good as confirmation. Catherine felt she was on sturdier ground now.

"You know…you remind me a great deal of myself when I was younger," she remarked, standing up and walking over to the desk. "After I thought Ernest had died, I threw myself into my work. Archeology was a man's world, but I was damned if I was going to be shut out of it because I was a woman. I worked twice as hard as anyone else just to get my foot in the door. Hell…not even my own father supported my efforts—at least not until I'd proven myself a half dozen times over." She picked up Earnest's picture and shook her head. "I used to tell myself that it was because of Ernest—that when he died I could never feel that way about anyone else, so I never tried."

She sighed as she set the frame back on the desk.

"Oh there have been a few men in my life through the years…I don't pretend I was a saint." She threw Sam a wink. "But I never allowed any of them to mean more to me than just an interesting diversion at the time. I won't say I didn't enjoy my life, but it wasn't until I had Ernest back that I truly understood just what I had given up. The pain of losing him had made me too frightened to ever feel that way about someone again. I could have loved someone else, had I allowed myself to. Instead, I hid behind my work and my ambition and let them substitute for what I was too afraid to risk."

"At least you were able to be together in the end," said Sam softly. Catherine gave a melancholy half-smile.

"We were. And I was very fortunate to be given a second chance. Not everyone is so lucky. It's why people should make the most of the opportunities that present themselves. They rarely come around a second time."

Sam had no reply this time. Her face, however, gave evidence that Catherine's words were making their implications perfectly clear.

"Odd thing about the Stargate," Catherine continued, intending to drive the point home one more time. "It has this amazing ability to connect people all across the galaxy, and yet it seems, from time to time, to have exactly the opposite effect: it keeps people apart. In more ways than one." She touched Sam's arm and when the woman glanced up Catherine looked her straight in the eye. "Ernest chose the Stargate over me and we both lost everything. I'd very much regret seeing anyone make that mistake again."

A moment of understanding passed between them. Sam, who'd paled yet again, still said nothing; but Catherine didn't need to hear her speak to know that she'd gotten the message.

"Hiding, are we?"

Jack's head appeared around the corner of the partially closed door. Catherine jumped a bit, but Sam leapt to her feet as if she'd just been called to attention. Her face blanched even paler, which made the red that it immediately flushed afterwards stand out all that much more in contrast.

"Jack…come in," Catherine invited, waving him toward the sofa. He looked apologetic.

"I'm afraid I can't, Catherine." He looked at Sam. "We've gotta go, Carter. Hammond just called and those folks on Edora are ready to negotiate for that naquadah. He wants us to move out at seventeen-hundred hours."

"Yes, sir." Catherine was relieved to see Sam's color had returned to normal as she started toward the door.

Jack came forward and enveloped Catherine in his arms. For one moment she greatly envied Samantha Carter.

"Take care of yourself, Jack," she told him from somewhere in his chest. He stepped back and smiled warmly.

Make that two moments.

"And you do the same, Catherine." He walked back toward the door and waited as Sam said her farewell.

"Good-bye, Catherine," she said, also bending down to hug her. Catherine held her tightly.

"Remember, Sam…_gather ye rosebuds while ye may_," she told her quietly, just before letting her go. As Sam straightened up Catherine saw her involuntarily glance toward the man waiting at the door. For just a moment she thought she glimpsed a look of gritty determination on Sam's face, but it settled quickly into a tenuous smile as she walked toward him

Catherine watched as the pair left the room. Jack's hand instinctively drifted toward the small of Sam's back as he guided her toward where Daniel and Teal'c waited just outside the study. The former raised a hand in farewell; the latter bowed slightly. Catherine responded in turn, but her eyes continued to follow the two people in blue until they disappeared from view.

She knew she had other guests to see to, but before she quit the study she went back to the desk and picked up Ernest's picture. It was hard not to regret the choice he'd made all those years ago, but she understood why he'd made it, and she'd forgiven him. Perhaps she'd stuck her nose in where it didn't belong this afternoon, but if she could spare Jack and Samantha what she and Ernest had gone through, then she didn't regret that a bit.

She thought of them heading out together to that planet…what had Jack called it? Edora. It sounded pretty. Perhaps they would find some time to talk while they were there. Perhaps, when they came back, everything would be all worked out.

She put the picture of Ernest back on the desk and, closing the door, returned to her other guests. She had done the right thing, she was sure.

No regrets, indeed.

_A/N: Thanks, as always, to my two wonderful betas, mara-anni and JenniferJF, who both kept me from tossing it in the recycling bin._


End file.
